This Fierce Vein
by littlemisscass
Summary: "What?" "I was just watching you read. Very focused," she smirked, patting him affectionately on the cheek. He stuck out his tongue and returned to his book, chuckling. Éponine shrugged off the haze that had settled over her and picked up where she'd left off with Demetrius still chasing after Hermia. Poor Helena, she thought.
1. Part One

[note: _part one_ of several, title is a quote from demetrius, more to come soon.]

* * *

**this fierce vein**

They were sprawled head-to-toe on Enjolras' bed, each absorbed in their own literature; Éponine was re-reading A Midsummer Night's Dream (she had always loved it but couldn't give one reason for that), while her friend was engrossed in Machiavelli's The Prince (typical). She set her book aside, resting against the pillows as she just _looked_ at him.

He was too pretty by half. She didn't know why he was still her friend after looking in the mirror every day for the past year she'd known him. Éponine was glad he hadn't ditched her though; she enjoyed bickering with him and having a friend to talk to. She'd become friends with Cosette, a girl she had known as a child, two years previously but conversation was always a little awkward, as Éponine once fancied Cosette's current boyfriend Marius. They were all friends now, that's how she met Enjolras, through Marius and the others.

He was an odd sort, she concluded. He probably didn't even realise that his mussed golden curls and scruffy jaw were endearing, or that the way he tilted his head to the side as he read made him look all the more serious. He was blind to almost everything. Except the fact that his friend had been staring at him for a good five minutes.

Enjolras finished his sentence and looked up, placing a finger between the pages, "What?"

"I was just watching you read. Very focused," she smirked, patting him affectionately on the cheek.

He stuck out his tongue and returned to his book, chuckling.

Éponine didn't watch him much longer, just a few seconds, but she caught him looking up at her through his lashes, one eyebrow raised. She shrugged off the haze that had settled over her and picked up where she'd left off with Demetrius still chasing after Hermia. _Poor Helena_, she thought.

* * *

_She was full absorbed once again_, Enjolras smiled to himself. It had surprised him when he'd caught her watching him; he'd been glancing over at her every few minutes for the past half hour, but that time, her eyes had met his and his breath had caught. She'd been looking at him.

They were friends. Good friends. Perhaps even best friends. He loved being friends with Éponine. She was so different to Marius, Grantaire and Courfeyrac, she was quite happy to sit in silence and just read. The others thought it wasn't very manly. Sure, they could each read alone in their rooms, but not both in the living room... that was just weird. But Éponine.. he could lie in bed with her for a whole day, trading books, having short conversations, teasing each other. He could watch her as she read, occasionally mouthing a word as if she was pronouncing them in her mind and had gotten stuck, he would see her tuck her hair behind her ear each time it fell in her eyes.

He would tell himself time and time again that he couldn't find her beautiful. Enjolras couldn't want to kiss her, to... do other things with her. She was his friend. She was the friend that helped him pick up his marks when he'd almost failed - it was preparation for a rally against human rights abuses that he'd been organising for months... who needed to study for an exam when people were dying? She was the friend that had been heartbroken over Marius for months upon months.

He did not fancy Éponine Thenardier. Half of him was shouting that he did and that he should act on it, whilst the other wanted to punch himself in the face. He did not fancy Éponine Thenardier.

He did not fancy Éponine Thenardier.

He did not fancy Éponine Thenardier.

He did not fancy Éponine Thenardier.

Enjolras looked up at her again, Renaissance text long forgotten. Her eyebrows were furrowed, a piece of hair had fallen out of her ponytail (again) and her teeth bit into her bottom lip. He sighed almost imperceptibly.

He fancied Éponine Thenardier.

_Fuck._

* * *

[to be continued]


	2. Part Two

It was Saturday night, and the Musain was crowded when Éponine arrived.

She hadn't seen _anyone _in days and she was going stir Gender Studies class required her to submit a 5000 word essay on 'Sex and Sport in Film' that afternoon and she was finally able to celebrate. She might not have loved the subject, though it was interesting enough, but give Éponine work to do and she would try her hardest to get a great mark.

She wanted to make herself proud, she wanted to break away from the failure that was her parents, even if she didn't see them anymore. Even if she didn't see Azelma or Gavroche anymore. She was glad they'd escaped too, though. Azelma had moved in with a friend halfway across the country and taken their little brother with her. It was for the best, but she still missed them.

Éponine sauntered up to the bar, shooting the bartender her sauciest grin and hoping that he'd step away from the thirty-or-so year old men ten feet away and come serve her. She needed a drink. A big one. A strong one. She needed her friends, too.

She looked around, hoping to catch a familiar face, but she saw no one. _No one_. Was everyone avoiding her? Did she do something wrong? No. Éponine hadn't received one text or call from Enjolras since that Wednesday, when they'd sat reading together, and the others were remarkably silent also; she'd exchanged greetings with Marius and Cosette the night before, when she'd run out for pizza, but received not a peep out of them otherwise.

Finally, drink in hand, she made her way to their usual table and was able to finally give a genuine smile to Feuilly, Musichetta and Courfeyrac.

She knew them decently, especially Courf, who was always innocently flirting with her, but she had never really hung out with them without Marius or Enjolras. _Where was he?_

"Madamoiselle Thenardier! Come sit by me!" Courf grinned widely, wiggling his eyebrows. She perched next to Musichetta on the opposite side of the booth. He looked stricken, "You wound me!"

The three others laughed, ignoring his theatrical attempt at a death-scene. Death by invisible arrow to the heart just wasn't working for him. They spent the next few hours in a similar fashion; everyone laughing at Courfeyrac, except when Grantaire sauntered cockily from the door and slipped over right in front of their table - then even Courf was laughing.

A hand fell on Éponine's shoulder, startling her.

"Can I have a word?"

Though the light was behind him, she knew exactly who the shadowed figure was. Had she not recognised his voice - why wouldn't she? he was her best friend - she couldn't not recognise his unruly hair or the feeling of his warm hand on her.

She hesitated for a second. She wanted to say no, wanted to give him back what he'd been giving her for the last few days... utter silence and rejection. But Éponine was all for second chances, so she slid an easy smile on her face and, sliding out of the booth, said, "Sure!"

Enjolras led her to the dark hall that led to the back door. Surprisingly - it was where everyone went to make out - the hall was empty.

"Look, I'm sorry for..." he frowned. "I've been... dealing with... some stuff, and I didn't want to really worry you, but I had to have some space. But everything's all good, I think, so there's... uh... no need to worry. Are we good?"

He rubbed his hand across his stubbly jaw, looking worriedly into her eyes. She'd seen Enjolras be a lot of things, but she'd never seen him nervous. Almost... scared?

It had hurt, sure, but she hadn't contacted him either. The dynamic in her room had done something to their friendship. She'd found him attractive, and didn't know what to do with that information. She didn't _like _him or anything, but there was definitely something messed up with finding your best friend attractive. So what if he was attractive? He was Enjolras, her awesome friend, and he needed her help to get over whatever he was dealing with.

Éponine gave him a reassuring smile, "We're good."

"Oh thank god."

He released a sigh and threw his arm over her shoulder as they made their way back to the table._ Had he always done that?_ She wondered. _Probably._

* * *

Everything was fuzzy as Éponine's eyes fluttered shut, her face buried in the nice warm chest she was using as a pillow.

_What?_

She lifted her head slightly and found herself looking into her best friend's eyes.

Enjolras just smoothed her hair and she settled back into her former position, eyes shut. As she drifted off, she felt his movement stop for a second as he pressed a featherlight kiss to the crown of her head.

The last thing Éponine did before drifting into oblivion was smile; she was quite content to sleep in his arms.


End file.
